We have just returned from a trip to Taranaki, more specifically, the small community of Opunake. It was a five-hour drive, with a pause halfway to release some stored-up energy from the kids at a local soft play centre. Unusually, the children don't seem to mind long car journeys in Aotearoa. They sit quietly (for the most part) and watch as the magnificent and changing landscape reveals itself to them. I've tried to show my folks at home, photos of the countryside here, but the two-dimensional quality of a picture, never really conveys the splendour of the beauty when you see it in its three-dimensional reality.

We travelled through small and large communities dispersed in vast swathes of craggy, countryside, of hunkering mountains, jagged hills and brushy farmland; intersected here and there by lines of soaring poplar trees or sauntering willows. Miles and miles of rough greenery, under a never-ending cerulean, blue sky. Small farmsteads, crop up from time to time, and I catch my breath at the prospect of a life lived in such isolation.

Of course, this is more a product of my Britishness, in which I am accustomed to rarely being more than a mile away from a convenience store and barely ever said more that "Hi" to my neighbours; and does not really reflect the true nature of the supportive communities that wrap their arms around these families.

Small towns, roll up and away as we follow the long, clear roads to our destination. Highstreets, of locally owned and independent shops, ranging from bakeries, butchers and fish shops to home stores and boutiques. The local Marae, various op shops, children's play areas (the best I have ever seen), 19th century wooden churches next to village halls, and the iconic New Zealand dairies line the streets, where people pass one another and greet each other. Typically, everyone seems to know to one another in these communities. The highstreets here are almost a visual representation of what community means. Local businesses run by local people, serving local people. Communal spaces, erected not as a token effort but with genuine thought as to how they will serve, the children, families and visitors to the area.

A note on public play areas in New Zealand. I knew my children, had been spoilt by the quality of the public children's play areas in Aotearoa, when we stopped, on our return journey in Palmerston North. The riverside walk there has some of the best play equipment, with a wooden castle, splash area and skateboard park, as well as the typical swings, slides and roundabouts; all nestled safely away from the road, against a beautiful backdrop of wide-open greenery and a meandering river. I was sat at one of many conveniently located picnic benches, when my son said, "I'm bored, this park is not very good".

Kids huh!? Clearly, the token effort play-areas, of his early British childhood, were long forgotten, where 4 or 5 pieces of poorly maintained and unimaginative play equipment had been quickly clustered together in a small corner of a housing estate. Kid's been spoiled, I reckon (although, I expect "I'm bored", in this instance was roughly translated to "I'm hungry", because after a quick snack, he was off again.).

Spanning out from the highstreets, are a mixture of homes. Some, the modestly grand, Victorian era villas; some angular mid-century buildings and others shining examples of modern architectural brilliance. It is fascinating to watch the varied nature of these homes, all so different from each other, and sharing the same post code; some fancy, some modest, but nearly always, well maintained, and taken care of with a clear abundance of pride. Front

gardens, neatly trimmed and pruned, boasting hardy native structural plants, often intertwined with more delicate roses and fragile flowers.

We drew closer to Opunake, following the coastal road, looking to my left, lay the sparkling waters of the Tasman Sea, to my right, Mount Taranaki loomed, reaching up to puncture through the waif like clouds at its midriff, majestic and powerful. Maunga ki te Moana.

Fields of Holstein-Friesian dairy cows and sheep, grazing lazily in the afternoon sunshine, span the distance between us and the ocean and us and the mountain. I am reminded of Devon in the UK, but this is Devon, on steroids.

Opunake is home to 1401 people. A small main road, with a few essential stores, an op shop, surf store and gift shop, a hotel and an inn. Ōrimupiko Marae, serves the hapū of Ngāti Haumia, Ngāti Kahumate and Ngāti Tamarongo of the iwi Taranaki.

Opunake beach is nestled in a small horseshoe bay, as we drove down to the shorefront Holiday Park, the waves gently crashed against the sheltered beach and the setting sun blazed the sky orange and pink, even more vibrant against the volcanic black sand. Framed by the lush green of New Zealand Native trees as they graced the cliff edges either side of the bay.

The kids were off. Running with the exuberant joy of being released from the long confines of the car, into the beauty of this wild and natural place, now themselves more wild thing than human child.
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